


Blossoms and Ink

by ShayneyL



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, M/M, Prompt Fic, Writer's Month 2020, guest appearances by Tuvok and the Delaney sisters, needles and roses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25657648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShayneyL/pseuds/ShayneyL
Summary: A secret admirer is sending Harry Kim flowers. But he's more interested in the guy delivering them.
Relationships: Harry Kim/Tom Paris
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28
Collections: Writer's Month 2020





	1. Deliveries

**Author's Note:**

> Writer's Month 2020, Day 1. The prompt is "tattoo artist/flower shop AU."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

"Excuse me."

Harry looked up. A man was standing in the doorway of Kim's Tattoo Shop, holding a single red rose wrapped in decorated cellophane and ribbons.

Harry recognized him. The new guy, working at Logical Floral across the street. It was hard not to notice him. He was very striking, tall and blond, with arresting good looks. "Do you need directions?" he asked. This part of San Francisco was easy to get lost in.

"No, I don't think so. This is 44-147 Cochrane Way, right?"

"Yup."

The man came in. He had vivid blue eyes. He held out the rose to Harry. "Delivery."

"Thanks." Harry took the flower, and read the card attached. "To the cutie in the tattoo shop. From your secret admirer." He looked up, puzzled. "If this is for my mom, Dad's not going to be happy."

"I'm pretty sure it's for you," the delivery guy said.

"Me? How do you know? Who sent it?"

"Florist's secret," the man said. He didn't seem inclined to leave. He was looking at the flash displayed on the walls.

"Interested in a tattoo?" Harry asked.

"Um…yeah. Actually, I am."

"I'd be happy to help you decide, Mister…?"

"Tom Paris. Call me Tom."

"Harry Kim," Harry replied.

"You own this place?"

"No, my parents do."

"Ah. Went into the family business?"

Harry didn't really want to talk about that. "I guess. What kind of design were you thinking of, Tom?"

"I don't know. You could show me your own tattoos." Tom flashed a devastating smile.

If he didn't know better, he'd think the man was flirting with him. Harry blushed. He should have anticipated questions like that, but he hadn't. "I don't have any," he admitted.

"What? A tattoist who doesn't have any tattoos?"

"I had some. They didn't suit me any more, so I removed them. I still haven't decided what to replace them with." He'd had a couple of tattoos, images of aspirations that hadn't worked out. He'd hated the reminders. Now here he was, tattoo-less, working in his parents' tattoo shop, mostly because he didn't know what else to do with himself.

"Ah," Tom said. "Your girlfriend — or boyfriend — dumped you?"

"Something like that," Harry muttered.

"You know, back in the 20th century, tattoos were permanent."

Now there was a horrifying thought. Harry tried to get things back on track. "Well, that's not true today. If you change your mind about a tattoo, it's easily removed or replaced. We guarantee our work."

"I was thinking…" A beep interrupted Tom, and he slapped his com device irritably. "Sorry, I have to go. Another delivery to make." He rushed out of the shop, back across the street.

Harry gazed after him, bemused. Then he turned his attention to the rose Tom had delivered. There was no sign of who had sent it. He wondered briefly if it might be Libby. Probably not, he decided. She'd made it pretty clear it was over. For good.

The flower flickered, and changed from orange to blue. It must be a chameleon rose. Harry replicated a vase, and put the flower on the counter. It was a nice a touch, he decided. He wished he knew whom to thank.

* * *

"No sonic showers today," Harry said. "Give the ink time to set. Water is fine, and you can go back to using sonics tomorrow."

"Thanks, honey," one of the Starfleet ensigns said.

"They're beautiful," the other said.

The Delaneys were identical twins, and had gotten identical tattoos — small sprays of butterflies on their wrists. Harry would have thought they'd want different tattoos, but apparently Jenny and Megan liked looking the same.

"You have a real talent for this," Jenny said, blowing him a kiss as they turned to go.

"I'm glad you liked them. Come back any time."

Someone else came in as they left. It was Tom. He gave a long look to the departing twins, then turned back to Harry, holding a small bouquet of carnations. "Another delivery," he said.

"Thanks." Once again, the card was signed, "Your secret admirer." Harry wondered if it was his mom sending the flowers, trying to make him feel better. Carnations were her favorite.

Like the first time, Tom lingered at the counter. "Those women…wow," he said. "Twins, right?"

"Yes," Harry said.

"They like tattoos, huh?"

Harry smiled, amused. The Delaneys turned a lot of heads. "It seems so."

"I don't suppose you'd give me their contact info?"

"Sorry, we don't share that type of customer information."

"Figures." Tom looked after the Delaneys again, even though they were now out of sight. "What kind of tattoos did they get?"

Harry considered, then decided it wasn't private information, since they'd gotten them on their wrists, where anyone could see them. "Butterflies."

"Think that would look good on me?"

Harry looked at Tom's wrists, which were strong and solid, dotted with freckles and dusted with red-gold hair. "The design they got is too delicate for you," he said. "The tiny butterflies would be hardly noticeable, unless you shaved your wrists. You need something bolder."

"How about a big pair of butterfly wings on my back? I'd look like I was about to fly away."

"That would look fantastic."

Tom didn't seem ready to commit to the design, though. "Harry…what kind of tattoos did you have, that you removed? If you don't mind saying."

With someone else, Harry might resent the prying, but somehow, he found it easy to confide in Tom. "I had a portrait of my former fiancee on my upper arm. She had beautiful, strong features that made a great design. But she broke it off, and I didn't want to look at it any more, and had it removed."

"I don't blame you," Tom said.

"I also had a tattoo of a clarinet on my chest. Entwined with the notes of my favorite jazz piece. I had dreams of a career as a musician, but it turns out I'm not good enough. My mom was really disappointed. She always wanted me to play in the Federation Symphony Orchestra."

"Don't you still love music?"

Harry thought about it. "I guess so. But I just didn't want that reminder of my failure staring back at me from the mirror every morning."

"Ah. Look, Harry…" Tom's com device beeped. "Damn it, Tuvok's always on my case. I have to go."

* * *

Harry heard the front door open, and ordered the cleaning bot to pause. It was pretty good at avoiding people, but not perfect, and he didn't want to trip a customer.

It was Tom again. "Delivery." This time, he had an Antarian moon blossom. Harry took the exotic bloom, which had a faint but delicious scent. Once again, the card said only, "From your secret admirer."

"Who is sending these?"

"Wish I could tell you," Tom said. "Hey, what do think of a tattoo like this?" He showed Harry a padd, with a holo of a dark-skinned man with an elegant, geometric design over his eye.

"Nice," Harry said. "But that looks like a tribal tattoo. If you're not a member of the tribe, I don't think you should get this design."

"You're probably right," Tom said, sighing. "I don't know what B'Elanna sees in him. I thought maybe it's the tattoo."

Harry could definitely see what a woman would see in the tattooed man. He was quite handsome, dark and magnetic. But Tom probably didn't want to hear that. "You need a tattoo that reflects your own background or interests."

Tom thought about that. "I've always loved the ocean," he said. "You know, an anchor was a popular tattoo in the 20th century. Sailors would get one after their first successful voyage. Proof that they were real sailors. Or they would get it after their sailing days were done. Symbolizing setting anchor for the last time."

"That sounds good," Harry said. "Where you were you thinking?"

Tom's com device went off again. "Blast it. Gotta go." He paused. "Can I come back tonight to talk about it?"

"Sure," Harry said. "I won't be here, but my parents will be. They'll be happy to help you."

"Oh." For some reason Tom looked disappointed. But he hurried out before Harry could ask him what was wrong.

* * *

"Another delivery."

Harry looked up, to find Tom holding yet another flower. "From my secret admirer again?" He took the flower, which was an exotically lovely Bajoran lilac.

"Yup," Tom said. As usual, he seemed inclined to linger, leaning against the counter and looking over the flash displayed on the walls.

"Still thinking about an anchor?" Harry asked.

"Um…no." Tom said. "I want something more dramatic. Susie is really artistic, and I think an elaborate tattoo would impress her."

So Tom had already found another love interest. Harry found himself oddly annoyed. But he got back to business. He brought up an image on the screen on the wall — a full sleeve with an intricate, colorful floral design. "How about something like this?" The delicate pastel colors would suit Tom's blond fairness.

"Wow. I like it."

Harry showed him some other designs.

"They all look great," Tom said. "Which one do you think Susie would like?"

"You should probably ask her," Harry said. "Tom…" He didn't want to oversell the appeal of tattoos. "You know that a little ink isn't likely to change anyone's mind, don't you? It's only skin deep. It's what's inside that matters."

An odd expression crossed Tom's face. "Yeah, I know. I just want to distract people from what's inside."

"What?" Harry truly did not understand. Tom was so attractive, charming, easy to talk to. A tattoo really would be gilding the lily for this man.

"Harry…I have a past. I'm an ex-con. Got caught piloting for people who turned out to be Maquis, and got 18 months in the New Zealand Penal Colony. I'm on probation."

"But you didn't know they were Maquis."

Tom's gaze dropped. "I knew. I just needed the money. I…had a drinking problem."

Harry understood. The Federation supplied every citizen with everything they needed to survive and thrive…but that didn't include real alcohol.

"That's why I'm working at Logical Floral," Tom continued. "Part of my probation requirements. I have to have a job. The owners are friends of one of my dad's colleagues. Dad figured a florist would be a safe place for me to work."

"Tuvok and T'Pel are good people," Harry said, reaching out to pat Tom's shoulder. "You'll do fine." He smiled encouragingly.

Tom gave him a long look. He seemed a little surprised. Did he think Harry would kick him out, just for his past? Everyone made mistakes. "I don't drink any more," Tom said. His com device went off again. "Damn it. I have to go."

Harry watched him leave. His own troubles suddenly seemed insignificant compared to Tom's.

* * *

"Hey, Har, another delivery." Harry looked up from his computer, to see Tom entering the shop, carrying a potted orchid. "You know, Tuvok and T'Pel grow the orchids themselves, in their greenhouse out by Mill Valley."

"I wish I knew who was sending these," Harry said, examining the card, which once again was signed only "Your secret admirer."

"I can tell you that." Harry looked up at the strange voice, and found Tuvok, the owner of Logical Floral, entering the shop.

"Tuvok!" Tom seemed surprised, and not a little alarmed.

Tuvok continued. "Your secret admirer is none other than Mr. Paris."

Tom's mouth dropped open. "Hey," he said when he found his voice. "You're not supposed to rat out a customer."

"I am not 'ratting out' a customer. I am trying to get my employee to cease wasting so much time here, under the pretense of flower deliveries."

Tom looked back and forth between Tuvok and Harry, mouth opening and closing, but no words coming out.

"You? You're the one who sent all the flowers?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Tom admitted, staring at the ground.

"But why? I thought it was my mom, trying to make me feel better."

Tuvok answered. "Human inefficiency. Mr. Paris is attracted to you, but fears his feelings are not returned. Instead of simply asking, he created this subterfuge. It would have been far more logical to directly state his desires, and if they were not reciprocated, turn his attentions elsewhere."

Tom leaned on the counter, burying his face in his hands. 

"I will give you half an hour to settle this matter, then I expect you back at Logical Floral," Tuvok said, and left.

Tom raised his head. "I'm going to kill him."

"That would probably be a violation of your terms of probation," Harry said, smiling. "Why didn't you just ask me for a date?" A slow joy was rising through him, at the thought that this beautiful man was interested in him, Harry Kim.

"Harry…you don't want a guy like me. You can do so much better. But…I had to see you. I just couldn't stay away. Even though you deserve more than an alcoholic ex-con. So much more."

"That's my decision to make, not yours," Harry said. "I choose my own friends."

Tom looked at him, wide-eyed, as if he couldn't believe it.

"How about dinner tonight?" Harry said. "I'm off at 5."

Tom's responding grin was as bright as supernova.


	2. Epilogue

Harry played his clarinet, running through "Jazz Impromtu" with the ease of long practice. It was one of the first pieces he'd learned, but he'd always liked it. Tom came in and settled on the couch, listening.

It was Tom who had convinced him to pick up his clarinet again. Harry might never be first chair in the Federation Symphony Orchestra, but he could still make beautiful music that made people happy. At least, it pleased his usual audience of one.

Harry finished the piece, then went to sit beside Tom.

"I've decided on what tattoos I want," Tom said.

Harry laughed. It had been two years now, and Tom still hadn't settled on a design. It had become something of a running joke between them. Harry now had a small red heart tattooed on his left breast, with the initials TEP in it. He didn't mind that Tom didn't have a similar tattoo. Tom hadn't really been interested in a tattoo when he'd come to Harry's shop, and he might never be. Which was fine. Getting a tattoo was a deeply personal decision.

"No, I'm serious," Tom said. "I've made my decision."

"What are you getting?"

"I want a butterfly," Tom said.

"Because you love to fly?"

"Because they're symbols of transformation. I want to commemorate how far I've come in the two years since I met you."

Indeed he had. Tom had satisfied the requirements of his probation, and was starting a new career. Harry was very proud of him.

"And a flower."

"A flower?"

"Because of the way we met."

"Ohhh." That was very sweet. Harry found himself grinning like an idiot.

"And an anchor."

"To celebrate getting into the Naval Patrol?" Tom had always loved the ocean, and he had finally landed the job of his dreams.

"No. To symbolize that I'm settling down. Setting anchor for the last time…with you."

Overwhelmed, Harry threw his arms around Tom, hugging him hard and being embraced in turn.

After a long moment, he asked, "So…should I book you for an appointment at Kim's Tattoos?"

"Let's do it Wednesday," Tom said, his fingers ruffling Harry's hair. "It's our second anniversary."

"Anniversary? We're not married." Was it the anniversary of the date of the first flower delivery, or the first date? Harry couldn't remember, and was surprised Tom did.

"I'd like to change that. Tattoo a wedding ring on me?"

It took Harry awhile to absorb that. "Is…is that a proposal?"

Tom was surprisingly hesitant. "Yes? Unless you don't want to..."

"Of course I want to!" Harry answered, and shut Tom up by kissing him.


End file.
